Little Piece of Heaven

What is it about one's own bed that is so sweet, so restful after a long day, that is a place like no other? Is it the softness of the sheets and the smell of the pillow as your weary body sinks into the mattress? Or the sigh of comfort the moment the sheet and blankets settle around you, encasing you in a sense of security? Is it the familiarity of the space around you casting out the uncertainties of the day? Is it the proximity of a partner lying nearby, bringing peace to your slumber? Is it that the bed is the safe haven you go to when you are sad, angry, or scared? Where you shed your emotions without the world watching? The place you cry, laugh, love, and dream?

After a weekend filled with friends, music, food, drinks and fun I was still so glad to get home, to fall into my own bed for a rejuvenating sleep. My husband and I have always said that no matter what life tosses our way we would be okay as long as we had each other and our bed. Our own little 5' x 7' piece of heaven!

I Didn't Start the Fire....

Well actually I did. I started a fire today in our backyard. This was no small fire, it was a bonfire that a party of fifty or more could have huddled around on a brisk late October evening, roasting marshmallows and telling ghost stories. But on a ninety-three degree July day it felt more like standing at the gates of hell, waiting for the devil himself to rise from the depths and choose his next resident. With bright orange flames licking dangerously close to the outstretched branches of the still-standing oak trees it was something to behold, and fear. The garden hose that was snaked around the perimeter of the enormous wood/brush pile suddenly seemed like a futile attempt at safety. As my husband, aka Fire Marshall Jim, sprayed down the grass and the nearby branches to prevent scorching from the heat, I began to feel a knot form in the pit of my stomach. Only one side of the enormous brush pile was actually in flames and I could only imagine what was about to ensue when we had the whole pile engulfed. I envisioned our one acre lot with its fifty or so trees blazing like a forest fire as the flames leaped from tree to tree. With the neighbor standing at the ready to call for reinforcement I grabbed the hose from my husband and began to soak down the center of the pile to keep the flames from spreading quite so quickly. The heat was tremendous and I had to crouch as low as I could to keep my face from melting off my skull. Jim and I took turns trying to tame the roaring beast, beating it back with a constant hail of water. It hissed and smoked, retreated and rushed, until it was manageable. Then we eased up on the water and watched the flames dance toward heaven, crackling and whooshing, within the confines of the pit we had created. I was able to relax a little and stand guard, occasionally spraying errant flames into submission. I fully expected to hear sirens wailing and see the entire volunteer fire department lumbering into our yard. I wondered momentarily if we were breaking the law by burning within the city limits so I ran in and grabbed the hot dogs, buns, plates, and sodas. We set up a table well out of the reach of the scorching heat, speared the wieners, and attempted to thrust them toward the fire. It would be another hour before we could get close enough to roast those dogs but we eventually were able to have our lunch and chat with our neighbors. With the brush pile disappearing before our eyes three things caught my eye: four one-gallon plastic pots were slumped near the edge of the flower bed, ten feet from the fire, melted into each other like a funky garden sculpture; the leaves on one entire side of a small redbud tree that my husband had refused to cut down were shriveled and scorched to an autumn brown, contrasting starkly with the broad green leaves on the other side; and a blackened piece of newspaper that had floated up out of the brush and into the sky had landed at my feet, its only legible word taunting me - Safety!

Happy Place

My job is very frustrating at times but I have found a solution to keep me grounded. At my desk I have hung several pictures of my granddaughter on both sides of my computer screen. When I look at them I can't help but smile. There she is with her wonderful expressions, evoking a lighter mood when I begin to feel tense over the office turmoil. She is my happy place. Not only mine now, but everyone in the office stops at my desk occasionally to regroup and smile. What great therapy she is.

My granddaughter is almost 28 months old and though she is an ocean away she brings both me and my husband much joy. With her blonde head and bright personality, her intense curiosity and gregarious nature, she is so much like her mother when she was that age. She is a little bundle of energy and love, full of a contagious happiness, spreading smiles like sunshine. When we talk to her by phone, which we do at least weekly, she chatters away, telling us all about her life, though some of it we still don't understand. We try to do webcams weekly so we can stay connected and watch her grow and change, and because of webcams she recognizes us and the distance doesn't feel quite so long. But there is nothing like being there in person and I cannot wait to go over in October for a visit after my new grandbaby is born. I want to wrap my family in my arms, to hold them, to make the connection that only being there in person allows. I have blocked off my vacation time and will be booking my flight soon. Until then, keep the pictures coming!

Tagged

I was tagged to do this meme. I have never done one before so here goes:

The rules are simple: one word answers to 40 questions.

Where is your cell phone? Charger
Your significant other? Asleep
Your hair? Unbrushed
Your mother? Love
Your father? Smart
Your favorite time of day? Dawn
Your dream last night? None
Your favourite drink? Red
Your dream goal? Book
The room you’re in? African
Your ex? Forgotten
Your fear? Heights
Where do you want to be in six years? Fit
What are you not? Rich
Your favourite meal? Steak
One of your wish list items? Cruise
The last thing you did? Dishes
Where you grew up? Indiana
What are you wearing? Pajamas
Your TV is? Off
Your pets? Memories
Your computer? Lifeline
Your life? Busy
Your mood? Unsettled
Missing someone? Always
Your car? Comfortable
Something you’re not wearing? Bra
Favorite store? Antiquish
Your summer? Short
Your favourite colour? Yellows
When is the last time you laughed? Today
When is the last time you cried? June
Your health? Good
Your children? Wonderful
Your future? Unkown
Your beliefs? Strong
Young or old? Neither
Your image? Stubborn
Your appearance? Ordinary
Would you live your life over again knowing what you know? Definitely

That's all I have time for today. I'm off to Indy soon.

Heart Strings Attached

To my middle child - you came into our world with a smile, ready to begin your adventure of life. With a list of 3 possible names we were undecided about, your personality instantly chose for us. Amity, friend, you have worn it well throughout the years. You were a happy, curious baby who only liked to be cuddled for moments at a time, then set free to explore and observe, impatiently waiting your turn to do all the things you saw going on around you. You were fun-loving and mischievous, loving and kind all rolled into one tiny package of energy. As much as I wanted to wrap you in my arms and slow your pace of growing up I could not keep you still for long. I always knew you would be my traveler but I also knew you would be okay because you would hold home in your heart. As you grew from baby to toddler to school-girl you just soaked up life. School was not just a place to learn for you, it was your social outlet, and you rarely liked to miss a day. Your boundaries expanded ever more with each passing year. We struggled a bit to rein you in and we had our conflicts, but we loved you fiercly and wanted nothing more than to see you grow up unscathed by all the challenges put before you as you spread your wings in preparation for your flight into adulthood. You have made us very proud for the young woman you have become. Though the distance is long, you are always here, safely tucked in our hearts. We love you more than words could ever tell. Happy Birthday!

Redneck Limo

Last weekend my husband and I headed across the river to do some antique shop browsing in the city. On our way there we were passed up by a gleaming white stretch limo. Not your typical limo, but a stretch limo pickup truck with about a four foot long truck bed. I had to blink twice to make sure that is what I actualy saw. My eyes were not betraying me. It was, in fact, a pickup truck, stretched into first-class oblivion. I wondered why in the world one would need a limo with a truck bed? Perhaps to carry the coolers full of beer on the way to a hog roast? Or a place to stow the lawn chairs for an outdoor concert? Maybe to pick up a few more friends on the way to a Nascar race? A place to stow the fishing gear and beer keg on the way to a lake? A place to haul home a deer after a day of hunting? Maybe for a college tailgate party? Maybe for a wedding party making the obligatory lap through town on the way to the VFW hall for the reception? Or maybe a place for the dogs to ride in style? Or perhaps for a hot tub to soak in as you speed along the freeway? The possibilities were endless. I doubted that this pickup truck limo would have been jacked up on "Pimp My Ride". We didn't hear the booming stereo and there was no glittering gold. Perhaps there is a chop shop for "Redneck Rides"? Whatever the reason, the next time all of our friends get together to head to a bluesfest I think we should rent one of these rides. But it would have to have a sunroof so one particular friend could poke her head through and yell her signature "Whoooo!" after a few margaritas or a bottle of vino.

Spring Rain

It is raining - a soft, steady, cleansing rain. A rain that stirs my soul into longing for a covered porch where I could curl up in a swing with a flannel blanket, a fluffy pillow, a book, and a cup of coffee. Where I could be lulled into a lazy peacefulness by the constant thrumming of water falling like tears from the darkened heavens, washing away the troubles of the day. Where I could drift into a much-needed restful sleep as my world is refreshed all around me by the life-giving liquid bathing the landscape with a glistening coat of green. Where I could awaken to the quietness just as the rain subsides, lingering idly in the moments before the sun nudges me out of my melancholy mood. Where my spirits are lifted by the cheerful chirping of the birds as they frolic in the temporary playground of puddles spilled about the yard. Where I can watch the flowers in the garden slowly turn their soggy heads toward the teasing rays of sun slipping out from between the clouds. Where I am coaxed out of my dreamy trance like a child awakening and stretching after a nap in her mother's protective arms, refreshed and ready to start anew. The day is waiting now and I arise from the porch swing of my dreams to take it on.